


Reunion.

by squishlink



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alexis | Quackity-centric, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BadBoyHalo - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Ghost JSchlatt, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Ghostbur, Grief, Karl Jacobs - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Manipulation, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Minor Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Scenes of Schlatt's death, Schlatt comes back as a ghost, Spy Toby Smith | Tubbo, Tough Love, Villain Wilbur Soot, manburg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27779344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squishlink/pseuds/squishlink
Summary: A grief-ridden and recovering Quackity comes face-to-face with the one man he thought would never see again.But something is off.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt
Comments: 80
Kudos: 535





	1. His last moments.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Just going to provide some quick context I feel is really important for certain aspects!  
> I take no credit for the original idea, but in this universe everyone is granted up to five lives. If you're killed for a fifth time, you die permanently. Quackity was the one to take Schlatt's fourth life, meaning when the President had a heart attack in the van, he took his last breath.  
> Schlatt comes back as a ghost, and much like Wilbur suffers with amnesia, he only remembers the things that brought him joy. The ghost is on the hunt for the personthing he loved most.  
> That's all I'm gonna say, I don't want to spoil too much now ;)

Quackity frequently had to remind himself that he’d picked the right side of history. 

Leaving _him_ was the right choice. 

He couldn’t count how many times he’d lay alone, sobbing to himself in guilt and grief as to how it all happened.

Undeserved liability clung to his shoulders, so slowly dragging him further and further down into a pit of self-doubt and hatred.

No matter how often he put on a smile for his friend’s antics, the weight gripped him so tightly every second of the day.

Schlatt died because of him.

He knew it.

It didn’t matter at all what anyone said to him. Countless voices spilled words of solace and solicitude whenever Quackity’s grin would faulter for a little too long.

They were effortlessly drowned out by the phrases that burnt themselves into his mind, his skin, his whole being—it felt like.

“I had everybody turn on me!”

A slurred and provoked voice rang out through the broken caravan the war had halted inside.

Tens upon tens of eyes were all trained onto the broken man who stood in such false pride amongst them.

It hurt to see.

Someone who he, at that point, despite _everything_ still held to such a high regard. His disbelieving eyes watched him crumble so violently before them all. A twisted comedy of Schlatt’s fall from demented grace that none of them truly wanted to see.

Even the men who hated him most couldn’t help but pity him in this state.

“In my time of need everybody left,”

His words started off so wrathful. His undone dress shoes tapping against the wooden flooring as he spun to try and meet the eyes of everyone in the space.

Until his horizontal pupils fixating onto him so quickly as he finished his sentence off. His tone dipped, sounding far more hurt than he was sure Schlatt would’ve liked it to come off as.

Instinctively, Quackity attempted to straighten up and hold his shield with a little more dignity. Eret shifted a little closer to him, almost trying to hide him from his Boss’ starstruck gaze.

“Even you.”

Alex felt as if he’d just been winded. All the air fled from his lungs in that moment.

Despite the netherite armour he adorned, he felt completely naked.

Under Schlatt he always felt that way. Defenceless. Vulnerable.

The ram knew that. It’s what made the other such an asset to him. Under any circumstance his respect and loyalty were unfaltering, or so it seemed. Everyone had a breaking point. 

His just happened to be the destruction of the white house.

  
  
  
The two rulers stood in defiance of one another, shouting words of clashing interest he didn’t care to remember in particular detail. Schlatt swung the pickaxe into the pillar beside him, the stone crumbling with such ease under the sharp edge. “ _Get fucking mining_!”  
  


“ _God, I cannot take these fucking idiots! Who did I get to run the country with me_?” His voice boomed, annoyance growing in the president’s tone as he continued to swing the axe into the walls.  
He was making quick work of it, that was for sure, a large hole now carved into the once sturdy structure. Quackity watched in utter disbelief, looking down at the pickaxe in his hands before back up at the man.  
The man ripping down the one building he valued more than any other in Manburg.

  
How quickly love turned to hate, as if he couldn't even fight it at that point. He let that negative emotion swallow him up in that moment. He fought for the good memories, the reasons to be obedient to his wishes. He fought to keep himself understanding to what he was doing, even as every terrible thing he’d predicted came true before his eyes.  
  
“ _Go fuck yourself, Schlatt. Literally., I built this place! With my own two hands, it’s mine_ -!” He was cut off.  
For him, that's the betrayal, that lack of willingness to even listen to his side. To show utter disregard for his opinion, even though what they had was supposed to be a cooperative rule. The way Schlatt had been all along in reality, though hazy lenses of adoration had blinded his true attention from the growing issue.  
  
“ _Oh no, ‘I built this, its mine, its mine_!’” He turned to him, adorning a grin filled with such venom that curled up from his lips. He mimicked him, voice turning to one of a whine as he halted his destruction for just a moment to watch his expression. The way the Hispanic’s dark brown eyes deepened in anger and fists balled up was just so cute to Schlatt. It made him want to push it further.

  
“ _What happened to mi casa es su casa, huh_? _Are we just gonna forget that this is a ‘partnership’? That we’re a team_?” There was zero hesitation in his voice as he spoke. Drinking up Quackity’s clear irritation at his use of his language. The ram was mocking him, voice turning into one used to speak to the likes of a baby, maybe even a puppy. He found the idea of them working together adorable, the fact Quackity thought he had a say in anything highlighted his naivety so perfectly.  
  
“ _That’s not- You don’t even know Spanish! Can we just talk. -“_ He urged. Alex was so sure anything he’d say at this point would go uncared for, but it didn’t stop him.

  
“ _Ay, I’m fluent in Spanish, alright? Fucking pendejo_!” The ram cackled, eyes growing dark with clear gratification.  
  
_“Do not curse me out, what the fuck is wrong with you_?”  
He hardly remembered any of it. His mind blurred out the peak of it as the two finally standing off against one another. Schlatt, of course, using his loud presence to bark insults and belittling statements to his Vice even further.  
_  
“Nothing is wrong with me, nothing at all! You know what’s wrong here though? You_.” His large hands tightened around the handle of the pickaxe as he turned with such force to take another powerful swing at the wall. The stone cracked loudly, before a huge chunk fell forwards onto the wooden flooring. Smaller bits of debris followed its lead, the wall slowly crumbling before them.

  
“ _You think you have the right to defy me, your Emperor_!”  
  
He took another swing.  
  
“ _You wonder why this whole partnership isn’t working out, it’s because you never listen to me! Always talking back, ‘Schlatt, don’t do that’ or ‘Schlatt I built this’. I’m in charge because you’re useless, Alex. You. Know. Nothing._ ”  
  
Alex’s blood practically boiled as he watched him, hands reaching for his bow as he spoke. Sliding an arrow into place with practiced precision. White knuckles from clenching the handle too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, his hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid - burning, slicing, potent. His face was red with suppressed rage at this point, and when Schlatt looked to see him again, seeing the bow was something he hadn’t expected.  
  
“ _Ahh yeah yeah, rack that bow! We all know you’re too much of a fucking pussy to do it!”_ Schlatt sniggered to himself, raising a pointed finger at him as he did so. To single him out further in the situation,  
Quackity’s hand only pulled back further on the string, lining up his shot. There was clear hesitation, which Schlatt was quick to cling onto and taunt.  
  


“ _Come on, it’ll kill me in one blow! Be a man, Alex. Or are you just a nobody? A piece of shit loser that I will personally rid of myself, huh? Speak up, bitch, don’t go all silent on me now!_ ”  
  
  
He let go.  
  
The arrow whistled as it shot directly at The President. His crimson eyes widened. As sick as it sounds, the look of bewilderment that sunk its way onto his features in response was almost relieving to see.  
  
He proved him wrong.  
The arrow lodged itself deep beneath one of his ribs, a choked sound leaving Schlatt’s mouth before he crumpled to the floor and collapsed. The heavy iron pickaxe slamming down next to him.  
Alex stood panting in response. Shaking violently as he stared. There was satisfaction, followed by the sinking feeling of fear as his boss just laid there. He offered a few splutters and coughs before going completely silent.  
  
It was quick to fade as Schlatt’s body disappeared into a light fog.  
  
He’d respawn. It wasn’t his last life.  
  
And with that, the two crossed paths for the last time in months. Quackity found shelter in Pogtopia under Tommy’s watch.  
Wilbur was difficult, the man slowly becoming more and more unhinged as the seconds dribbled by. He could do his best to empathise with him without letting the guilt kick in. The brit hardly spoke, and when he did, it was either words of distrust and doubting the legitimacy of their allies or broken sobs over his nation. His ‘unfinished symphony’ he’d cry, repeating it to himself over and over.

He was but a mangled image of the man he once was. It was a painful sight; he couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for Tommy to see. A young man who always kept a strong and solid front up, which often ended him up in very undesirable situations due his inability to know when the right time was to surrender. It was admirable, in its own way.  
While it was hard, at the end of the day the two had each other to rely on. Wilbur coming and going both mentally and physically over the gruelling months.  
  
His time in Pogtopia was a quick and harsh change from what he was used to. While the cavern glowed warm with lanterns and shining exposed ores from each stretching wall, it’s pleasant and oddly welcoming appearance quickly faded in the night. Moist and frigid walls swaddled the most bone-chilling cold he’d ever endured.

With each breath more heat rose in puffs of white vapour, the biting cold chilled his fingers into clumsy numbness, cold seeped into his toes and spread painfully throughout his feet as if it were his bare feet on the pristine icy whiteness rather than sneakers. From this, sleeping was a rare occurrence.  
He abandoned his duties as Vice President to take back the nation. His suffering was worth it. To overthrow a evil and corrupt man.

  
That’s all he was, he reminded himself. An evil and corrupt man.  
It took so long for him to rebuild himself after leaving Schlatt’s side. Only for the months of work to come shattering down on him like a pane of glass as he was addressed. It felt as if it was just the two of them again, everyone else fading away.

  
“You left me, Quackity.”  
  
He hated this. Schlatt was trying to make him feel guilty. As if he was in the wrong here. It almost worked, the guilt dripping down his chest. He found himself going to apologise, though luckily Wilbur placed a firm hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring look. The first act of friendship the torn man had shown him in what seemed like years.

Those close to Quackity knew this would be hard for him, they knew the feelings the two _used_ to share.  
He breathed slowly, before speaking up.  
  
“We could’ve had it all, Schlatt. You and me against the world, you used to say. Remember that?” Alex spoke slowly, his tone one of sentimentality and regret. It was practised. He’d been over this exact situation in his mind countless times. His words clearly ticked the drunk man off further, it didn’t stop him though. Confidence bubbled up inside him, even after Wilbur and Eret backed up from him a little, giving him space to fully express what he had to say.  
“But you pushed me over the edge. You never cared about me. You-...You _used_ me, Schlatt. You used me for the votes, you lied and manipulated me to follow your every word, you used my body. You _never_ loved me.” Despite everything, all the people hearing him spill out like this, he spoke with conviction.  
  
With a scoff Schlatt hurtled the half empty bottle of liquor at Quackity’s head, which was easily evaded. It’s almost as if he saw it coming.  
In return Tommy only fixed his aim on Schlatt, Dream’s enchanted crossbow being a worthy weapon to tear down any foe. His icy blue eyes plagued with annoyance.  
He would’ve pulled the trigger right then and there if Wilbur hadn’t stood in. Though just moments before he was encouraging Tommy to fire, something had changed. The blond gave him a displeased look, keeping his aim sharp and his finger at the ready to clamp down on the trigger at Wilbur’s signal. How he still had faith in the man was beyond him.  
  
Schlatt lunged forward; Wilbur grinned.  
The ram’s hands clamped down on his collar, despite Quackity’s attempts at blocking the attack it proved fruitless. He was so easily overpowered.  
  


He struggled against him, kicking his legs out as he was lifted so effortlessly by the man. His retorts were far too slow. The violent spread of anxiety washing through his system took hold of his muscles, his entire body going numb. Desperately, he glanced around for help, but no one moved. Alarmed eyes watched from the side-lines, though nothing was done about the quickly escalating disturbance playing out before them.

Flashes of his past beatings played before his eyes. Schlatt’s gaze of pure hostility something he was ashamed to say he recognised.  
  
“What right do you have to speak to me like that?” His voice seethed hatred.  
  
Promptly, Schlatt slugged his fist back to strike him. With a whimper, Quackity snapped his face away, eyes squeezing shut as he anticipated the searing pain that would surely blossom out of the wound.  
The bruise that would stain his skin for weeks afterwards.  
  


But it never came.  
  
After a moment, he dared to peak at what was delaying his attack.  
  


Schlatt was pale. Eyes wide and blood oozing from his mouth. The two shared a look of bewilderment before Schlatt coughed, the blood splattering itself across the others tanned skin. His footing became unstable, grip giving out completely on the Hispanic’s collar as the two fell to the floor.

The ram-hybrid’s body started to seize and shake, desperate hands clawing at his heart through his now soiled suit.

Quackity watched in horror as his breaths came out as chokes and gasps, the blood now leaking from his nose as well. It dripped down onto his once pristine, fluffy ears. Matting itself in the fur.  
  


Without thinking, Alex was at his side. Hands unsure as what to do to help him. If there was even anything.  
“H—Hey, look at me. What’s wrong? We can fix this, okay?” His words were hollow of certainty. His fingers raked through his hair, almost trying to put him back together. Using his sleeve to wipe the blood from his skin, though it was pointless. The thick, dark liquid returned as fast at it was rid of. 

The President didn't seem to register him at first, his eyes staring into the sky, body twisting unnaturally in a fight against the chilling grip of death that approached him.  
  


His flickering eyes looked to the cowering man next to him with something unplaceable at the time, eyebrows furrowing up in what seemed to be fear.  
Schlatt’s trembling arm slowly raised to his cheek, smearing blood across his face in a gesture of what could only be described as attempted kindness.  
Alex didn’t even notice the tears that streamed down his face, only feeling the liquid as his hand came up to hold Schlatt’s palm closer to him. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but Schlatt’s thumb rubbed small, messy circles on his cheekbone.  
Why was he crying? Why was he trying to comfort him? He should be celebrating and rejoiced that his boss finally met a deserved end.  
But no.  
  


His protective shell of hate and fear melted away as he watched him suffer.   
  


His other arm looped around the ram’s larger body, allowing him jolt and seize up in his arms. The noises that echoed through the space were truly gut-wrenching.  
  
“You’re going to be fine, o—okay? I’ve got you, it’s okay.” He spoke quickly, mind purely focused on holding him close. It felt as if it were only the two of them again. The drilling eyes of the crowd around them fading away. The whispers of concern and Wilbur’s laugh disappearing.  
Quackity was convinced if he squeezed him tight enough, he’d be fine.  
  


As the seconds dragged by, Schlatt began to still. His limbs which once jerked and moved so violently now giving up.  
  
“I’m sorry.” He spluttered out, red seeping from his mouth. His face pressed into the others neck in a final moment of reflection before he went limp in Alex’s arms. His head fell back against the scuffed wooden flooring, pale eyes rolling backwards into their sockets. The Hispanic didn’t dare look. Continuing to swaddle him close and cry into his loose shoulder.  
  
He knew how selfish he’d been. He let out a sob harder and louder than he ever thought possible. Desperately clinging to his corpse in a futile attempt to bring him back.  
One moment he was conscious and the next he went completely numb, unable to take in anything but the soul-destroying grip of grief that racked his system.  
“W-we’re gonna be fine. Please wake up, S-Schlatt...” The grief surged with every expelled breath, always reaching higher peaks, never sufficiently soothed by his long intakes of the damp spring air.  
  
He sat there, rocking the lifeless body of his loved one for what had to be hours. No matter who grabbed at him to pry the two apart he wouldn’t budge. Words of what had to be comfort or pity sounded muffled and distant.  
  
Only after exhaustion swallowed him whole were his friends able to separate the two. Quackity was soaked in red. His hair, his skin, his clothes.  
Even though he’d bathed tens of times since his death, he could still feel the dark liquid cling to his form. Constantly dripping down his back in a cruel reminder he couldn’t rid himself of.   
  
And that's about it.  
He was forced to continue on as if life was perfectly fine after it all. The ache of longing embraced him so fondly over the passing weeks, The mask of normality he wore each day was sinking into his skin. Slowly, he was recovering.  
  
  
  


That is until today.


	2. Nausea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so sorry this took so long to upload, got caught up in some other stuff, but hopefully I'll be able to update this semi-regularly!  
> Also, Tommy hasn’t gotten exiled yet!

It took Alex a moment to shed the sleep from his brain, to allow the visions of the night to give way to the day, to move from that which his mind had created on a whim to things more fixed and real. In a few minutes he would be able to greet the sunlight that poured down through a crack in his curtains to spill across his face. The warm light demanding his consciousness, for him to see the colours as bright as the backlit images of cinema screens.

Twilight had melted away into a majestic sunrise, a red-orange glow seeping over the horizon, streaming down from a molten sun. Powerful rays flood over the landscape lighting every blade of grass, shining from each leaf outside.

A cold mist was passing through town, leaving droplets of water on every surface it could get a hold on. In all regards, it was a beautiful morning, one Quackity was missing by ducking his head underneath the scratchy covers of his duvet.

The man let out a displeased groan, concealing his eyes from the stream of gold that seeped through his window. He didn’t want to wake up yet, body urging him to slip back into a pleasant rest.

He gave a couple attempts, readjusting his position and swaddling close to the pillows he had laid out by his side, almost resembling the shape of a person.

Alex slowed his breathing, clearing his mind in hopes of ending up back in the blissful blankness his sleep usually resulted in.

He tossed and turned. Kicking at his sheets and forcing his eyes shut tight.

But in the end it was fruitless. He was fully awake now, his endeavours of returning back to sleep only pulling him further from his desired state.

Two tanned arms reached up above his head, weakly grabbing at his headboard to stretch his out his stiff body. His back arched up and popped in response, muscles tensing before he melted back into his sheets with a small sigh.

Finally, he allowed his eyes to flutter open, the sunlight greeting him and burning at his tired eyes.

It forced him up, his boxers and shirt hanging loosely from his form as he reached over to lazily pull the blinds open. He was quickly engulfed in light, a faint warmth spreading across his skin and bringing an inviting glow to his messy little room.

A crowded desk sat in the corner, a crumpled suit was shoved away in a cabinet to his left, pictures of him and his friends on their many adventures hung on the wall beside his door.

It wasn’t much, especially in comparison the grand room he used to reside in, but it was enough.

Balled fists rubbed away the sleep from his eyes, yawning into his inner-elbow before turning to dig around for some clothes.

It didn’t take long before he was struggling to kick on his shoes and pulling a beanie onto his tangled dark hair, fully dressed and out of the door.

He wore the usual, black sweatpants that adorned three white stripes down their sides. A thick, blue jumper with the same trio along the arms. There was a small embroidered duckling on the right side of the chest aswell, a small detail he took a little too much pride in.

Alex gave himself a quick once over in his mirror before he was out in the open of L’manburg’s city centre.

The cold air sucked out any warmth the man had retained from his home, a deep chill swiftly taking its place. The sun appeared so vibrant in the sky, but it was a mere bait to get him out for the cold to steal his warmth.

Alex shivered, the hair on his body stood up as he rubbed at his arms, just attempting to generate even the smallest bit of heat in response to the sudden change in temperature.

Shuddering out a breath, it formed a swirling white cloud before his face, he glanced around.

It was empty?

Which was odd. L’manburg was usually filled with people going about their everyday business, even if it was just them passing through.

It was early, he figured, shrugging off the worry that bit at the corners of his mind and pushed through the cold breeze.

Then came the steady patter of rain upon his skin, droplets yet to scatter the nascent rays of rising sun. The sound of it colliding against the woofing pathing brings a calmness to mind, a soothing melody, a natural lullaby. Birds huddled together, singing upon the roof tops, watching the stretching expanse of the world come into focus.

There was a moment of solitude for him then, the new day, the new sky, the water and the land - ever the same and ever evolving - the embodiment of the moment and the eternal entwined.

A moment to embrace the present, his past but a forgettable notion of his mind.

Quackity’s snippet of peace was quickly interrupted by a loud, British voice.

“Big Q!”

Alex almost yelled, being caught completely off guard. He had physically stop himself from swinging a punch in the direction the call had came from, snapping his head to him.

_Tommy._

It was just _Tommy_.

The blonde was grinning at him, hand stuck in the air and waving at him almost violently. He wore a hoodie, imprinted with the same red and white pattern as his signature shirt, a green bandana tied loosely around his neck.

“Tommy!”

Quackity laughed, looking at him with slight puzzlement as he approached. What only deepened that confusion was how the blonde took to slinging an arm around his shoulders, pulling him along in the opposite direction that he’d been heading in. Even if Tommy was a couple years younger, the fact he was considerably taller was unbelievably bothersome.

The contact wasn’t exactly appreciated, everyone seemed to pick up on the way he’d flinch when anyone even made the attempt to touch him. Flahes of crimson eyes and the ghost of pain flourished in his bones.

The mask of his progression would faulter for just a second too long, his friends would realise again the true impact of _his_ actions on the poor man.

“Whats up with you?”

His voice was one of slight panic and uncertainty. He trusted Tommy, they were good friends, it was just an odd turn of events.

Alex stumbled after him, making a small attempt to glance behind at what exactly he was being lead away from, only to be tugged at once again.

“Dont worry about it, _ma friend_ , come with me.”

Tommy was blissfully ignorant to the mild worry in his friends voice, leading him up through the White House and onto the roof of the building.

His steps were slow and unsteady, not at all fond of the arm tugging him along like he was a toy. It was just a rule always to ask permission before coming into physical contact with him, but he could excuse this, the kid seemed pretty damn excited about whatever he was leading him to.

But when they arrived, it was just the roof. The same view, railings and hastily crafted flooring.

The view admittedly was nice, he took to leaning up against the barriers next to his friend, sighing out and trying to place hat eaxctly the point of this was without directly asking.

Tommy was spontaneous; and for a bright kid, he severly underused his smarts in the situations where it counted most, but this was just too pointless of a venture to be for no reason.

“How’ve you been?”

Alex turned his head to him, trying not to crack a smile at the pure normality of his question. Tommy kept shifting, as if he was trying to keep his attention on him.

While his own blue eyes kept drifting to just byeind the Hispanic before him.

“You brought me all the way here just to ask me how I am?”

He broke into a quiet laughter, hand rising to cover his mouth as he chuckled into his palm. He still adorned an expression of confusion, looking straight at him now.

“Answer the question, dude.”

Tommy was smiling too, thought one that showed a slight hint of remorse in its nature. He wouldn’t have been able to pick up on it if weren’t for the countess times he’d seen it before.

From shallow attempts at cheering him up to the nights they’d sit and let Alex vent out to him, that smile was nothing but familiar.

He tore his eyes away, letting them fall down to the floor, mindlessly starting to toy with his thumbs in thought as he debated over how honest to be with the boy.

The last thing he needed was to be seen as some sort of burden.

After a few long moments of contemplation, Alex spoke.

“I’ve been alright, I guess. The good days are starting to outnumber the bad ones, which is a plus. I don’t know man, you know I don’t like talking about this shit.”

Quackity shrugged, unaware of the fact he’d started picking at the skin around his fingernails again, force of habit.

He took a look at the boy next to him.

“Thats good, Q, I’m happy to hear it. I just like checking in, afterall, today is your big day!”

He was still smiling, looking as excited as ever. The way his lips lifted upward. The way his one dimple crinkles. The warm glow his happiness gives. Tommy’s smile is a ray of sunshine, but he hardly had any time to appreciate it, shifting out of the way as Tommy rose his arm up to point behind him.

His eyes followed to where he was signalling.

“My big day-?“

There was a loud bang, before a wall of colour came floating dwon from the sky. A brilliant array of coloured papers danced down with a gust of wind strong enough to knock his beloved beanie off of his head. It swirled in the air above, a glorious cloud that slowly fell down into his palms.

Confetti?

He brought his attention to where it was coming from, mouth falling open in shock as to the sight he was met with. Bright bunting hung from the houses, from window to window it blew in the cold morning breeze.

Balloons had been tied to plant pots, lampposts and the like. Any colour you could picture was bobbing along in the wind, and in the dentre of it all was his friends.

Fundy had been the one to let down the confetti, waving down at him from the top of a building to his right.

Niki, Bad, Eret, Tubbo, Sapnap — Hell, even George had managed to wake up in time for it.

There was a delicious moment where Quackity’s face washed blank with confusion, like his brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information from his wide eyes. Every muscle of his body just froze before a grin crept onto his face, it soon stretched from one side to the other showing every single tooth.

“Happy birthday, Big Q!”

Tommy cheered, offering an amiable pat to his shoulder. It all clicked in his mind in that moment, but the thing that shocked him most was the fact it was his birthday.

How did he himself forget something like that? His mind had just been so preoccupied lately-

Whatever negative thoughts he could’ve conjured up in that moment were forcibly dissipated by Tommy’s gesture for him to follow.

“Sorry about dragging you about, mate, we didn’t think you’d be awake this early! They hadn’t finished setting everything up yet!”  
  
Alex followed along, unable to keep the happiness bubbling up inside his stomach from spilling over. He didn’t respond, letting the joy soak right into his bones. He wanted the feeling to still be there when he was old. He closed his eyes and savoured the moment, they’d remembered. They cared.

For the first time in forever his body and mind relaxed. In that moment there were no expectations upon him, no deadlines and no schedules to meet. He was in, he'd made it, he was a winner.

Once the two were out of the building, he was met with nothing less than the ecstatic faces of his loved ones, confetti still making its slow decsent onto the crow around him.

It was a little overwhelming, in the best way possible.

He was hugged, thanked and praised, showered with such affection he hadn’t been shown in what felt like years. The smile on his features was unfaultering, making whatever attempts he could to reciprocate the love he was being shown. It got to the point where his cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much, but it was hard to stop.

After a short while Tubbo slipped away to start up the music, Niki brining out the array of baked goods and treats she’d made in preperation for the day, including a sizeable cake.

The celebration went on into the night, everyone dancing like they'd forgotten how to stand still. The celebration was a riot of colour, everyone a little more hyped up than they should be. It’d been too long since they all had a true break, he was almost his birthfay had came at such a perfect time.

Alex’s eyes ate up the scene like a post ramadan feast, his limbs feeling supercharged and his head giddy. Admittedly, Sapnap had brought along some quality alcohol and he was not even slightly opposed to endulging.

It might’ve just been the fact he was a little drunk, but this was genuinely the happiest Alex had felt in months. His heart was postively _soaring_.

Fundy was the one to propose a photo to remmeber the whole thing, which was very happily agreed to by everyone.

“Shit, wait, my beanie fell off earlier. Give me a second!”

He called to them, earning a few nods of understanding in return.

Quackity turned and jogged off, the music soon fading out from his earshot. The glow from the lanterns being considerably less helpful as he moved further and futher away from the town centre.

His jog soon turned into a walk as he realised just how slippery the wooden pathing was after the light rainfall, hands tucking themselves into his pockets. He was curling in on himself again, trying to retain the drunken heat that had previously embraced him, but once again he stood no chance against the invasive chill.

It was the type of coldness that reaches into his soul, as if his heart were a door left wide open to the icy wind, slamming only to open again.

The only thing to do is keep moving, as much as he would’ve liked to turn back in that moment there was no point, he was fine afterall. Quackity could handle retrieving one item by himself, though he was dreadng how soaked his poor beanie would be at this point.

Pulling his hand out from his pocket, he put up a fight against the wet door handle for a couple seconds too long, almost making him feel glad he’d gone alone.

Quackity kept his head down once he’d gotten inside, purely focused on getting back to his friends, the laughter, the drinks, where he belonged.

He smiled to himself, he’d gone soft.

Within seconds he was pushing open the rooftop door, face crumpling up in distaste to the gust of wind that met him. Though it was quick to fade as he snatched up his partially dry hat. He rubbed his thumbs over the fabric before turning his gaze up to slip it on, eyes turning to meet what he’d assume to be a grey sky.

But it wasn’t just that.

In place of the bleak sky he’d hoped for was a towering figure, even with his back turned to him, the twisting horns that spirraled off of his head were a good enough hint as to who it was. His form blinked in and out of reality, one second he was clear as day and the next hardly there at all.

Quackity shook his head in disbelief. He was sent reeling backwards, brain desperately scrambling to make sense of any of it.

An invisible hand clasps over his mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierces through his heart, unloading in an instant. It wasn’t long before his ribs were heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate his desperare lungs. His head is a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing His mind into blackness.

Any sense he had screamed at him to run; but instead he was stood there, shaking. Sounds that were near felt far away, like he was no longer in his own body.

 _He couldn’t breathe_. Everything was spinning and it felt as if the ground was melting under his feet.

Quackity crumpled down onto his hands and knees, the few breaths he choked out shallow and quick.

His panicked and clouded eyes turned up to meet the shadow for one last time.

The figure turned it’s head, grin clear even in the low light, sharp features so beautifully carved out in the darkness.

_“Hey there, Birthday Boy.”_

He knew he would faint when his stomach gave out. It felt like his innards were being replaced by some kind of black hole. Then nausea crept from his abdomen, to his throat, to his head.

The world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Honey trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I hope you all had a great Christmas if you celebrate it, I spent my time writing this out because I was feeling rather ill today.   
> Sorry if it’s a little all over the place, I can picture what I write so clearly in my head but when it comes to writing sometimes I get a little too excited and skip over details.   
> Anyway, enjoy! ( Please read end note )

Quackity awakes without warning, iris’ wide and filled with fear. 

Flashes of the roof played out before his eyes, the familiar shadow, the smell of rain, the numbing pump of adrenaline coarsing through him. In his mind he was still there, frozen in place like a deer in headlights, awaiting a heavy fist, harsh tone, rough grip. _Anything_.

Even as the tears spilled from his eyes nothing came. Nothing but a mawkish greeting echoing through his mind even now. The voice so dangerously soothing to his horror-stricken state.

  
_“Hey there, Birthday Boy.”_

A gentle weight found itself on his shoulder, his head snapped to it’s direction, swatting the touch away with all the force his throbbing arm could manage. Once again fear found him. It spoke to him in its cackling voice. It told his legs to go weak, his stomach to lurch and his heart to ache.

Pushing himself back on the oddly soft floor he scrambled away until he hit the wall, in the sensory overload that is his own head, his limbs tingle and his brain races in the most unhelpful way.

His tear-filled eyes blinked rapidly, slowly beginning to realise truly where he was. The scratchy bedsheets, the faint glow of his lantern, the worried looks of his friends.

He was in his room.

Tubbo’s gaze was riddled with concern, holding his striken hand close to his chest. Tommy and Fundy were there too, their light conversation interrupted by his abrupt and unpleasant awakening.

His vice-like grip on his covers eased as he pulled his knees close to his chest, shrinking in on himself.

Quackity’s mind continued to race, looking between the troubled looks on his friend’s faces.

“H—He’s back.”

Alex blurted out. All the reasons not to tell them come flooding in, as if his body chemistry just sent them a blanket invitation. He slowly felt his panic rise as the looks on the others’ faces contorted with scepticism or even further worry. 

There was a prolonged moment of silence between them all, making his blood run cold.

“He was on the roof, I-I heard him, he’s back—”

The words tumbled from his mouth, he had no control over what he spewed out, trying to give context to a situation no one else could fully grasp just yet.

They’d found him curled up and shivering atop the White House roof, completely unconscious. There was no one else there.

“Who’s back, Quackity?”

Fundy piped up, the two fox ears atop his head twitching slightly as he rose to his feet. He didn’t intend it necessarily, but his question came across a lot more patronising than he would’ve liked it too. 

He stood tall at the end of his bed frame, eyes squinted as he looked at him.

Mustering up the courage to say who exactly he saw was difficult. It’d been months since he’d uttered his name.

“ _Schlatt_.” 

His voice was weak, as if he was doubting himself for a moment. It all seemed so ridiculous out loud. A grieving ex-lover seeing a premonition of the man they’d once loved? It wasn’t entirely out of the question.

But he knew what he saw, watching the lion of dubiety and uncertainty pass over their faces only filled him with the need to explain himself further.

As the words were meant to leave his mouth he fell short. He wanted to sit there and describe every little bit of what he’d seen.

The way the man blinked in and out of existence, the way his crimson gaze lit up in the low light — he wanted to say anything.

Nothing came out. 

Alex just sat there, watching as the three of them made an attempt to be subtle about their worried glances to one another.

“Quackity..”

Tubbo started, voice riddled with ambivalence about the whole thing, his doubt practically seeped through his words.

Immediately the spark to defend himself flared up in his stomach. 

They already looked down on him so much after all that he’d been put through, he couldn’t have them believe he was starting to go insane.

“Don’t give me that pitiful bullshit! I know what I saw!”

The tears were welling up in his eyes again as he jabbed a finger in Tubbo’s direction, hands shaking in frustration.

Why couldn’t they just take his word for it?

Tommy was quick to act upon seeing the rising tension in the room, moving himself in front of Tubbo to take charge of trying to calm him down and try and understand.  
  
“You were drunk, are you sure you didn’t just hallucinate it? I’m not doubting you, none of us are, I promise, I just—“

The brit spoke, nervously scratching at the back of his neck as he paused.

Piecing together what to say in that moment was difficult—while he was a good listener does not mean handing out advice or comfort was something he’d quite mastered just yet.

“–I thought you were making progress.”

As the words slipped out he knew what he’d said was wrong, immediately stammering over a correction. Pale arms reached out to try and hold his attention long enough for a correction to be made, but there was no use.

Quackity didn’t hear any of it. To him it was nothing but white noise in his already buzzing mind.

He felt utterly deceived in that second.

“ _Fuck you all_.”

His voice was laced with disgust, an undertone of betrayal fitting nicely into his tone alongside it. His teeth remained clenched as he spoke, eyebrows knitted downwards and glassy gaze one of rage.

Of course, he didn’t truly mean it, deep down he knew these people were all he had left and he loved them dearly. 

If it weren’t for the red clouding his vision maybe he could’ve understood where they were coming from.

But all he could fathom was how they showed such a lack of respect to his words, how they looked down on him.

He threw the sheets off of himself, fingers and toes sizzling with growing rage. Tommy shifted back to guard his best friend, the look of alarm that flashed across his face was priceless.

Before he could even stop himself for a second to think, Alex was running through the city with all the power he could muster up.

His feet slip outwards on the wet leaves as he rounds a sharp corner, the cold evening air shocking his throat and lungs as he take in inhales deeper, faster. 

With each footfall came a jarring pain that shot up from ankle to knee, ankle to knee, over and over again. 

Perhaps jumping so many steps on his escape wasn't so smart after all.

His heart beats frantically, _all or nothing._

His breath came in small spurts, hot and nervous. At his sides, tanned fingers curled into sweaty fists, swinging forward as if it would make him faster.

He didn’t know where he was going and that was fine, he just needed to get away.

Burning rage hissed through his trembling body like some sort of deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence. 

It was like a volcano erupting; fury sweeping off of him like ferocious waves. 

The wrath engulfing his moralities and destroying the boundaries of loyalty.

The briny aroma of the sea is what brought him back.Harsh pants fell from his agape mouth as he looked around briefly.

He stood on a cliff overlooking the crashing sea. 

The waves break in, each of them as strong and bold as the last. They come without fear of the jagged rocks below, embracing their destiny.

_ He thought he’d gotten better too. _

Tangling his hands into his dark hair, Alex screamed into the salty air. 

The yell tore through him like a great shard of glass. 

His eyes clamped shut and pulse quicken, his heart thudding like a rock rattling in box. 

The scream came again, desperate, terrified — human. 

Alex crumpled to his knees, listening to the water slam itself into the rocks below, just as self-destructive and explosive as him, as if somehow it was reacting to his emotions.

That’s when he heard it.

His voice.

“ _Hello, Q._ ”

The way his name rolled off of Schlatt’s tongue so fondly, so lovingly made him want to _vomit_. The voice was behind him, no matter much he wanted to he couldn’t, he refused to turn and look at him.

His vocal chords were exhausted, so was his mind, his limbs. He was so tired.

“Why—..How are you here?”

Silence. Then a footstep.

“What do you mean by that?”

He sounded just as real as he had the night before, just like the last time he’d seen him alive.

“You’re fucking dead! You’ve been dead for months!” 

He snapped, finally twisting his head to get a look at the figure of the man he’d once loved.

His eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes were a deep, dark mahogany. 

While he still seemed to have his height, his posture had changed completely, 

shoulders drooped down and curled inwards. 

He’d previously worn a tailored black suit, almost always keeping himself well dressed and professional. Schlatt prided himself on his appearance more than anything.

Which was a stark contrast to the dusty old clothes he adorned now, a dull blue hoodie, grey distressed jeans and some battered trainers.

His face held no emotion as Quackity spoke, maybe slight confusion in the faint lines of his forehead, but nothing more.

“I held you as you died, you motherfucker! I’m supposed to be getting better-.. but, now you’re back to ruin me all over again.”

He was crying, hard. Though it felt a lot more like choking.

Shakily he rose to his feet, trying to challenge the other man in his unstable state.

“Why are you back? Why now?”

There was a pause, Quackity’s tear filled face glaring at the ghostly man in front of him with such rage it was practically tangible. 

Schlatt seemed lost, his blank expression soon changing into one of a certain fondness that you’d assume to be far from implemented into a situation like this. It was if everything even slightly meaningful Alex had spilled out didn’t sink in at all. 

“I’m here for you.”

Schlatt’s voice could only be described as warm. As if seeing this torn and sobbing man on such a miserable day was the happiest he’d ever been.

It felt so foreign, so _wrong_.

Yet he couldn’t stop himself listening. Allowing his words to wrap him up in a blanket of manipulation he slipped so effortlessly into.

“I couldn’t pass on, something’s brought me back here. I don’t remember much, and, well,”

The ghost reached a pale and hazy hand out to him, 

“-You’re the key, Alex.”

That was the final straw, he stumbled forward and broke down into the others chest. Everything came crashing down on him all at once.

The subtle looks pity he was given, the days he’d go without eating properly, the nights he’d spend longing and grieving for the touch of his ex-lover.

The mask he wore so proudly finally slipped off.

He was clinging to the ghost as if almost for dear life at this point, sobbing so desperately into the fabric of his clothing and nails scratching down the length of his back.

Schlatt looked utterly bewildered. 

“I can touch-... _God_ , I’ve missed you.”

Schlatt found himself mumbling the last part, tucking his head down to swaddle the man closer.

His hand rubbed faint circles into his back, gently moving down his spine. His motions were precise, almost practised, mumbling sweet nothings in the racking body of the man before him.

The world went quiet. In that moment nothing existed but the two of them.

“It’s just me and you, okay? Me and you against the world.” Schlatt’s voice was soft and smooth in his ear, cold breaths sending a chill to cascade down his spine.

It all came surging back.

That one line triggered Quackity’s glassy eyes to widen, his brain released the flood gates on all of the memories he’d been storing away from himself. 

It’d been for his own good—but hell, he was already being cradled by his dead fiancé, what more did he have to lose here?

One night in particular graced his mind.

It’s been a particularly bustling day of business meetings and deceit for the two, lying through their teeth graciously to the people who stretched a hand of help out to their nation. An honest man wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt of the fine text they’d sprinkle into contracts—but to him it was an irreplaceable high.

Alex always found himself with the wrong crowds, getting into drug dealing and the cartel at a very young age due to tight cash, he’d turned away from that line of work after one to many bad run-ins with the wrong people. 

But with Schlatt at his side he felt invincible. They held all the power, tugging at their suppliers and citizens strings as if they were nothing more than rag dolls to them.

They two stood up to shake at the sweaty hands of their new ‘business partners’, the ink was dry on the novel-thick stack of contracts they’d written up for them. It was blatantly obvious the man hadn’t read any of it, skimming through the pages of text as he chuckled at Schlatt’s occasional witty comment.

He was completely ignorant to just how many of his precious assets he’d just signed away mindlessly. 

“Good doing business with you, Sir.” 

Quackity chimed in as he gave a firm shake to the mans hand, he earned a nod of agreement in return. 

They stood side-by-side as they waved him off, the man holding his copy of the contracts close to his side as he made his way out of the office.

It wasn’t long before the two, high off of the thrill of betrayal and wrongdoings, found keeping their hands to themselves increasingly difficult. The hispanic was pressed up against the desk, struggling to keep his balance as large hands groped at his body.

The ram-hybrid lifts a claw to thread through Alex’s hair and hold his jaw in place as he nudges his mouth to Quackity’s, his lips parted, exhaling hotly between messy kissing.

Alex had just started unbuttoning his shirt when the crash of the door made him practically jump out of his skin, the two knocking foreheads in shock to the noise. Stood there was the man, panting wildly and pointing a finger to some text he hadn’t bothered to read beforehand.

“ _You fucking double-crossed me! What makes you_ -“

His voice came to a sudden stop.

The warmth between Quackity’s legs was gone, the man they’d once shown such fake compassion too now writhing on the floor. His hands clawed at his open throat, blood gushing out onto the recently replaced carpet.

Schlatt stood over him, axe equipped in his hand. A vibrant crimson dripped down the blade, pooling next to the convulsing body of the man.

In a fit of desperation, he reached for Schlatt’s calf, fingertips barely grazing the expensive cloth of his dress pants before coming to a sharp halt.

A harsh kick came towards his chest, sending the blood from his slit throat splattering up across the wall.

Schlatt did it again, and again, and again.

Repeatedly slamming his shoe into his rib cage until he felt the bones crack and twist under the force.

The ram-hybridpaused, resting a hand against the wall and panting to himself lightly at just how much effort he’d put intogetting rid of one of the mans lives. 

The heavy breaths soon melted into body racking laughter as the man at his feet didn’t fade. His corpse was as real as ever and one thing was for sure, he wasn’t respawning.

One minute he was right in their faces, more alive than he had ever been, and the next he was meat on the floor.

He’d killed him. And he found it hilarious.

Schlatt’s head turned to snap back at this horror-stricken lover.

There was blood splattered across his pale face, eyes wide and iris’ shaking with his distorted laughter.

There was no remorse, nothing but pure, unbridled joy smeared across his face.

Quackity’s stomach dropped. He began to struggle against the spirit’s grip.

“H-Hey, please let go, I’m fine now.-“

Schlatt’s smile dropped entirely. 

There was hope in his eyes before, a warm glow gracing his features.

Just a tiny flicker against the growing wind. 

In that moment he had a choice of kindness or cruelty; it took no time at all for him to make his mind up.

The longing in his eyes was quickly swallowed up by a cool, howling wind. One that pumped through his veins.

The despair that gripped him was a heady blackness, the thoughts of understanding and peace that once clouded his mind were tarnished to black, but not blocked out entirely, but as if they were never there at all.

The fondness he was just talking about felt meaningless, the longer they were gone the more they started to feel like cruel tricks, as harsh as any desert mirage. 

“ _ **Are you trying to leaving me?**_ ”

Schlatt’s voice was one of a whisper, though his tone like daggers. His expression darkened at the mere thought of being alone again.

He snaked an arm to reaching around andgrip at his shoulder. His hold stern as a vice at first. It was to keep him in place, to pull him impossibly closer.

He felt the warmth of his skin through the fabric. He convinced himself in that moment if he focused he could even feel his blood pumping.

It was positively wonderful against his cold, dead fingers.

His large hand spread over his neck, movements slow and gaze so focused for such a simple movement. His fingers moved with such precision over his skin, bathing in the heat source.

Schlatt sighed in delight, hand curling up to cup his cheek, the sharpened nail of his thumb brushing at the area under his eye with such care.

It was such a stark contrast in comparison to the way he’d started out.

His boiling anger melting away into a sickly feeling of endearment.

“I’m sorry,” His eyes finally moved to meet his again, they didn’t hold the darkness they did before. 

Schlatt was like a loose canon. As unpredictable and dangerous as he’d remembered.

“I just..I don’t want you to go. You can’t, you understand I need you, right Alex?” 

A small smile graced his features again, speaking to him as if he hadn’t just tried to hold him still against his will.

There was a long moment of silence between the two of them, Schlatt’s hand still rubbing at his cheek and wiping away the occasional tear that would slip from the others eyes. The two held eye contact, the cogs in the Hispanics mind almost visibly turning as he examined the warm expression he was being shown.

Slowly, Quackity smiled, bringing his hand to lay on his lovers shoulder, returning the gesture.

“ _I understand_.”

Like a fly to a spiked honey trap, Quackity couldn’t resist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo reader interaction wooo!  
> I have a lot of different ways I could take this fic, and the last thing I’d want is to spoil them, but I need a little help guiding it in the way you’d like to see most! I’ll try and keep the decisions as vague as possible.  
> So, would you like more of an angsty/betrayal sort of ending or something more bittersweet and nice (?) ending? If you have any theories as to what you think is going to happen next/what you’d like to see added please thembelow too!  
> Since the QuackiSchlatt tag is still relatively small/filled with fics not properly centred around them, I’d love to make this as personalised and include as much stuff, within reason lol, that you’d all be interested in!  
> Okay that’s all, happy holidays everyone!


	4. Confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for how long it took me to get this update out, I’ve been going through a rough patch these past couple weeks.  
> Writing is usually a source of comfort for me, but the Schlackity dynamic can be a bit of a sore spot sometimes with my own past experiences, I’m usually fine writing it though since it helps with trauma.  
> But for some reason I just couldn’t bring myself to write it, so I started a new project you should look out for 👀.  
> Anyways, I was feeling a lot better today so I wrote this up for you beautiful people!  
> Enjoy!

The two men stood there for a good while. Rocking one another back and forth with the swirling ocean breeze. Quackity allowed himself to push his face into the cold fabric of Schlatt’s chest, a firm hand raking its way across his scalp and through his messy hair.

It brought back all the times the two would lay facing one another in bed. No words were spoken but love was expressed in different ways.

Hands tracing adoration along bare skin alongside gentle, quick kisses. Small chuckles would fall from faint smiles as one of them brushed a hand across somewhere ticklish or sliding a hand particularly lower than usual.

The golden light of the morning would pour across their white bedsheets, dust floating through the beams of light slowly. It fell spin their eyes, even if it caused a mild discomfort all they were focused on was each other. Making it fully known all they truly cared about was one another.

_Those were the days_ , he thought.

When the rose-tinted glasses of new lovebrushed away any signs that Schlatt’s mirage of stability would fall through. When the hands that graced his body served for comfort and not to cause harm. 

When he considered himself truly and utterly happy.

His breathing had slowed and his eyes fell shut, while Alex was fully aware he should’ve continued to verbally berate him and question him until his vocal chords snapped, there was something so irresistible about the contact. 

Schlatt was freezing to the touch and the pressure was inconsistent as the man drifted in and out of vision, something kept him hooked. Something nostalgic and sweet. It brought a sad little smile to his tired features.

The ghost’s expression was blank. His pale eyes practically bore holes into the base of the tree he was so intently staring at. He looked to be pondering, body moving in rhythm with Alex’s mindlessly.

It was if he wasn’t there at all mentally, lost in the complexity of his own brain. 

Schlatt used to do that a lot, when no one was looking he’d untie the ribbons that held up his act of pleasantries and care. It wasn’t long before the care to keep his true nature behind closed doors was let into the open, when people started to fully realise where the bruises on Quackity’s body came from. Why the pair wouldn’t even stop their bickering when others were near, arguing in the public as if their reputation meant nothing at all.

Though he wasn’t allowing Alex to see it now, making sure he was swaddled close.

Night fell slowly and it was only with the ache of Quackity’s knees that he pulled himself away from the ghost. By the time he felt the shifting, Schlatt fixed a smile onto his lips.

The walk back was just as peaceful, the two finally parted and walking single-file back to L’manburg. Without the heavy arms around his form it gave Quackity a moment to process, to think about what he was doing here.

Schlatt made no noise behind him, no noise of footsteps, no breathing, even the irritating habit he developed of cracking of his knuckles. 

It was as if he wasn’t even there to begin with. That Quackity’s mind had just created a mirage of the man he loved just to taunt him, to ruin his progress.

But every single time doubt would bite at him and he’d turn just to check the ghost was floating just a ways behind him, he was reminded of the terrifying fact this was real.

He couldn’t even decide what was worse.

The fact he was hallucinating leading his abusive ex-lover back to the place he contributed into ruining, or the fact he was actually doing it.

Questions were piling up in his head, hardly held back by his thinning self restraint. He was surprised with himself for not asking anything while encased in his arms, but his mind went utterly blank if any complaints or notes while being there. Nostalgia and grief held him too tightly to let him ruin the glimpses of solace he was handed.

With each stride his mind became more clear, more resolute, as if the growing physical distance between them had now become an emotional chasm. 

As the nascent sunlight caressed over his tan skin, promising a new dawn, a new beginning, he came to a stop. They’d met the end of the tree line now. The small rocky path they’d travelled along now dribbling off into patches of stomped-out grass and ill-kept flowers.

Quackity felt the presence move to his side, though he didn’t look, keeping his gaze forward onto his country. It was founded on top of the rubble once known as Manburg, the very nation he and the man to his left had marched triumphantly into its inevitable doom. 

What had been crafted from the nothingness and ruins of what had been, was now a nation of fair rule and unity, under the power of Tubbo. 

It was rather ironic a child was doing a better job that two grown men, it said a lot, really.

“This is where you live?” 

Schlatt piped up from beside him, finally causing him to turn his head. The ghost looked to be thinking, eyes narrowing as he scanned over the area, processing it all.

Alex gave him a moment before answering.

“Uh, yeah. This is New L’manburg.”

There was a look of slight dread that washed over the mans expression for just a split second. As if he came to the realisation of something. Whatever it was, it was stomped out quicker than it came, his expression melting back into the inquisitive nothingness it held previously. Schlatt took to repeating the name over a couple times, letting it roll off of his tongue slowly. 

As if testing it out.

Quackity watched him curiously but turned to carry on walking, simultaneously doubting himself again. What was he truly doing right now? Where was he even going to bring him, if anywhere? Could he Sleep? Eat? What on earth did ghosts even need to sustain themselves? 

He couldn’t help but ask himself if he even wanted to provide it.

He slid down a bank that separated him and the rebuilt wooden path, there was wet and torn pieces of conferring stuck to it. Alex couldn’t bring himself to look at it, gesturing for Schlatt to follow as he made his way back to his home. 

“Come on, it’s already dark. You—”

“ _Who’re you talking to?_ ”

Quackity froze. Hands clamping shut as he cursed under his breathe.

Slowly he twisted his head.

There stood Karl. His figure silhouetted by the lamp that shone bright just behind him. He recognised him purely off of the look of worry in his eyes. 

What concerned the brunette most wasn’t Quackity’s disheveled and damp clothes, or the talking to himself not even the fact he’d disappeared into the forest for hours.

It was the way he looked at him, as if Karl stood as some sort of threat. As if Karl was going to hurt him.

“I—“

Alex snapped his head back to Schlatt, who was now floating just above the floor by his side. The two made eye contact for a split second before he turned back to Karl.

“You don’t-...Karl, h-he’s right there.”

His voice sounded a lot more unsure that he would’ve liked, taking another glance at the ghost at his side.

Schlatt’s white eyes were staring holes into Karl, slowly descending from his floating state to take a few long strides over to him. He yanked his pale hand out of his pocket and took to waving the digits before his face, even snapping his fingers near his ears to try and get a reaction, anything at all.

“Who’s where?”

Karl’s voice sounded strained, Quackity couldn’t even get a good look at him anymore since the hybrid was blocking his vision. He’d taken to clapping in front of his face, which made the whole considerably harder to ignore.

Quackity fumbled over what to say. He couldn’t see him? Why could he?

Was Schlatt even real?

He’d certainly felt him, but at this point, could he even trust himself?

Alex ran a hand through his hair, looking completely lost as he stared forward, unable to put together any half-credible reasoning for what he doing.

All he kept mumbling was about how he was ‘right there’ and to ‘just look, Karl.’

“Alex, look at this!”

Schlatt had his hand stuck through Karl’s chest. His hand flexed and fidgeted as his forearm remained poking out of his friend’s body, he’d phased through him completely, his other hand going to pass through his head. 

He was grinning as he did it, as if this newfound ability was somehow amusing.

A look of terror flashed in his eyes, only being amplified as a hand was pressed against his shoulder.

“Are you alright? You can tell me anything, you know that right?”

Karl was getting pushy, but he couldn’t blame him. If someone was being as unhelpful as him in this situation, he would start to get irritated as well.

“Yeah.”

Quackity finally spoke up, getting a grip of himself.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine, karl.”

There was a long pause. The brunette eyeing him up, it looked as if he was trying to dismantle his expression for any clues as to what was wrong with him.

“No you aren’t. “

“Can we...—Can we not do this now? Please? “

“ When will we? “

He had no answer.

Quackity was curling in on himself, nibbling at his lip as he scrambled around to put together any excuse he could manage.

In his desperation he looked back to the ghost, who was now stood alongside Karl. He reached a pale hand out to rest on his other shoulder, thumb gently caressing at the fabric.

Schlatt’s smile was warm, truly inviting. It was a huge contrast to the lines of worry that had engraved themselves into his friend’s expression.

His eyes lingered over the ram hybrids face for a second longer, feeling a spark of confidence flare up inside his gut. 

Schlatt’s smile curled into one of a more sinister nature.

“While I do appreciate you giving a shit about me all of a sudden, but the only thing wrong here is you.” 

He let out sigh, pushing his hand off of his shoulder to move past him in direction of his house. Quackity chose Schlatt.

“ _Goodnight_ , Karl.”

—

He slammed the door behind him. 

Quackity’s breathing was completely out of pattern, sweaty hand reaching up to grip at fabric of his already ruined clothing.

“Why did I say that?”

The words that had fallen from his lips had caught even him off guard, it was as if he wasn’t even the one who said it. 

When his dark eyes met the glowing whiteness of Schlatt’s own, it was as if something changed within him.

An previously broken cog in his mind beginning to spin again, causing him to lash out at someone he truly loved.

Alongside the others, Karl had been one of his greatest sources of comfort.

They’d sit together in times where he couldn’t bring himself to talk to anyone at all, their shared silence one of understanding and patience. Karl wouldn’t force him to talk unless he was ready, giving up hours of his time to help him. 

And when he was having a better day they’d hang out for hours. Playing dumb games or commuting minor acts of vandalism and problems around the place.

He almost felt bad for Sapnap sometimes, he was stealing his own boyfriend away from him and almost always played the sympathy card when Sap would complain.

They’d been so close for so long. Disgust bubbled up in his chest, why _did_ he do that?

“Because you finally realised, my Darling, he doesn’t care about you—none of them do.”

A look if hurt passed over his face, eyebrows furrowing down as he got ready to snap back at him. The annoyance and shock that riddled his system could easily take the form of anger, and if Schlatt was going to outright say things like that, it looked as if it would.

Schlatt’s cold hands were cupping his face before he could even throw back any sort of retaliation, bringing their faces close.

Quackity kept his mouth shut after that, gulping down his pride to stare at him. 

His dark eyes grew impossibly big, scanning over his face.

Despite the obvious undead changes, it was the same man. He had the same sharpened horns, the same fluffed ears and the small beauty spots that were dotted across his now grey skin. 

It was undoubtedly him. 

“Some of them pissed you off earlier, right? Why did one of the fuckers follow you to apologise, huh?”

He made a valid point, he thought, hands reaching up to touch at Schlatt’s. Quackity ran his fingers over his knuckles, before settling atop the freezing digits that roamed his face.

“You know who was there for you though? Me, _I_ was.”

Schlatt broke eye contact, the rough surface of his hand caressing the warm skin of Alex’s face so fondly. His thumb brushed at the freckles underneath his eye, movements so loving in comparison to how violently he was twisting the narrative of it all.

If he hadn’t have shown up in the first place no one would’ve been in disagreement with one another about his well-being, the confrontation that put a wall of distrust between him and his friends would never have existed. 

If Schlatt had never came back the soul-crushing grief he’d been dealing with for months would’ve have caused his his world to tip on its head.

His new normality would have continued on.

He wouldn’t be being held in the arms of a murderer, the arms of his abuser, the man who’d caused his bright smile to falter.

“I’m the _only_ one you need.”

Every reason to kick away from him was piling up in his head. Reason to scream and kill him all over again we’re looking more and more appealing.

But he stowed them away. He set them aside.

Quackity thought himself ridiculous for even considering it as the next phrase fell from his mouth.

“I’m the only one who really loves you, Alex.”

Slowly, Schlatt began to lean forward, as if testing the waters for what he was intending. 

It took a moment for Quackity to catch on, still caught up on what’d been said. 

Schlatt _loved_ him.

While he was slow on the uptake, Quackity

didn’t hesitate to fill the gap that held the two apart. Allowing his lips to press up against the blue-tinted ones of his lover, the familiar excitement trickling its way down his spine.

Their mouths remained pressed together for a good while, the kissing gentle and chaste. Schlatt’s hands tilted Quackity’s head up so they could meet in the middle, to save his back the ache of having to dip down for him. 

There was no lust behind it, a different form of need taking control of the two of them as they continued their tender kiss.

Schlatt was the first to pull away, Quackity moving to chase after his lips as he did so, wanting to continue the moment for as long as he could.

Though he was kindly denied by a charming smile.

“Ah ah, let’s get you clean first, you’ve had a rough day.”

Alex could help but let a sweet laugh slip from his mouth, smile gracing his features he looked dotingly up at him.

Schlatt was slipping the rose-tinted glasses back over his eyes so delicately that it was hard to resist all he offered.

It was as if his own tan hands were reaching up to slip into the ignorance of love that’d once consumed him.

Alex didn’t want to feel guilty anymore. He didn’t want to harbour all the pain and suffering that’d been inflicted upon him. 

Looking up to the ram hybrid he felt happy, he felt safe.

_ Quackity felt love. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again if that was a little all over the place, let me know what you thought in the comments!  
> Just so you know this is /pretty/ one-sided and mostly manipulation on Schlatt’s part. I try not to point it out too much because it makes it seem like Quack is aware, but he’s slowly falling back into the trap that is his ex-husband lol.  
> Do you have any theories as to how you think I’m going to end this? Because I have it all planned out now and it’s going to be great, just you wait and see, dear reader!

**Author's Note:**

> There's chapter one! This fic won't be too long, but I hope you'll stick around for the ride :)


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